


Snapdragons and Steel

by SomnificSheep



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Shiranui Genma, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Mentions of Violence, Regret, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-07-08 06:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomnificSheep/pseuds/SomnificSheep
Summary: Fox doesn’t know why he continues to do this. Every mission he dons the mask it’s the same. He rolls deep in the oceans of regret, waves cresting and breaking over him with terrifying force. Years of this, and it never gets easier. Fox does his duty, comes home, pastes on a smile, and pushes through with a stoic determination he’s not sure anyone expects from him.~or~Genma comes home to something new.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Genma Week prompt ANBU! I can promise chapter two will be a lot shorter, because there's no way I'm making this longer than 8k (I say that, now watch it grow).

Fox doesn’t know why he continues to do this. Every mission he dons the mask it’s the same. He rolls deep in the oceans of regret, waves cresting and breaking over him with terrifying force. Years of this, and it never gets easier. Fox does his duty, comes home, pastes on a smile, and pushes through with a stoic determination he’s not sure anyone expects from him.

Regret is a worse poison than any he uses. It sinks through his skin and wraps him in a blanket of numbness before attempting to snuff out the light that keeps him alive. It steals focus, breath, and soul, and the worst of it is that people do not understand when he says that the past must remain firmly in banks of memory.

They don’t understand unless they’ve been through the same thing, and he thinks that’s somehow worse than not having anyone to commiserate with.

Fox regrets what he does on this mission. He regrets finding their informant already dead, hanging from the rafters with a sword in her gut and blood matting in her hair.  _ If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave immediately,  _ the note left behind says, but they are ANBU.

ANBU care not for what’s good for them.

They track the killers over the period of a week, over hills and across rivers until one makes the mistake of sneaking into their room and leaving behind black sand from the dunes outside of town. When they find the men, Fox and Bear find them hard to crack. It’s Fox’s duty to wring out words with poison and pain. He makes them scream, beg, gasp for mercy until even his partner looks green around the edges of the mask.

Even with what  _ he’s  _ seen and done.

Fox doesn’t speak on the way back to Konoha. He holds the information they’ve gained in his mind, and the loathing for the man behind the mask close to his heart. Bear tries getting him to open up, something he’s started since he began seeing Sakura, but Fox remains resolute in the silence of the forest.

It’s easier to convince yourself you’ve done nothing wrong if you don’t name your sins out loud.

Konoha’s gates never appear soon enough on these missions. It’s a few days of hard, fast running, and when they finally appear on the horizon, there’s none of the usual relief winding through Fox’s body. He tastes the bitter anger on the back of his tongue, lets the knowledge he’ll be back home soon ease the tension, but there’s no relief because he knows he’ll be sent out on a follow-up sometime in the next few weeks.

He pours his regret into the mission report so maybe the hokage will see what he’s been turned into. 

In the locker room, Sai is wrapped in a towel as he examines a freshly stitched would. “I was hurt,” he says, and Fox doesn’t answer, because he didn’t ask.

He lets the burning water course over his body and thinks, as he always does, of what would happen if he encountered someone like him. Would he scream? Cry? Beg until his voice cracks, and then screech when he can’t find the words? He considers what would happen if someone got their hands on the clan books he keeps hidden in a place no one knows, and that thought scares him into a ball on the floor.

No one asks if he’s okay, because everyone knows better than to ask an ANBU how they’re feeling.

Ino’s probably wondering where he’s fucked off to, but he doesn’t have the will to seek her out and explain he had a sudden mission come up. He doesn’t even have the will to put his famous smirk on, because he barely has the will to pull himself from the heated tiles to drag himself home to an empty apartment.

He carefully packs his mask and armor in his locker, each piece stacked nicely and with intent as he attempts to get his mind in order. It works, somewhat, and he manages to stick a senbon between his lips as he walks down the sunlit street. True to form, the apartment’s dark, and he doesn’t bother opening the curtains to let any light in.

He doesn’t want it.

What he wants is to fall asleep, and he hopes his dreams don’t remind him of the way one man cursed him to every hell and back as he watched his comrade writhe in his restraints. The contents of the refrigerator clink when he opens it, finding it unsurprisingly empty.

“Figures.”

Wedding invites and old reminder notes flutter to the floor along with the magnet as he seeks out an old menu, and he doesn’t find the energy in himself to pick them up. Words blur together as exhaustion takes hold, the ink swimming along with his vision as he stumbles back toward the couch.

“Guess that’s out then,” he mumbles, senbon dropping to the floor as he yawns. He pricks his finger when he fumbles for it and gives up when it rolls somewhere beyond his reach. He’s bone-weary to the point that even  _ thinking  _ about going out to get food is making his head spin, so he lets the menu fall from his hand as well.

Sleep slips across his mind like a balm, easing away the ache in his body and soul with a vision of blonde hair and a smile that could send him to his knees. He dreams of her until light blots out the stains on his heart because she--though brash and willful to the point of frustration-- makes the regret coursing through him not sting as bad.

He wakes to the sound of her voice. It’s soothing at first, then worrying when she yells. “Genma, open up! I know you’re in there.”

It’s better to get this over with sooner than later.

Ino’s breath leaves her in a rush when he cracks the door. “Thank fuck,” she says. “You’re here.”

“You said you knew that anyway.”

“Sakura told me to come check on you. Ibiki was worried. Look,” she says, holding up a bag with something shoshing inside. “I brought you pumpkin soup, because you like it, and I wanted to see you. Two weeks, Gen, a goodbye would’ve been nice.”

“Maybe I was busy,” he mutters.

Ino shakes her head and points to the table by the couch. “Sit down.”

“Can’t I sleep?”

“I said sit,” she says, and her tone holds no room for protestation. 

Genma does as she asks, because he knows it will serve him well in the long run. He watches as she rummages through the kitchen drawers, searching for utensils. “Next to the stove,” he says. “Middle drawer.”

“Thank you.”

Ino only nods when she turns back and thumps the bag down in front of him. It should smell delicious, but he can’t focus on anything but the way the informant’s hair looke like hers, and the thought of Ino’s blood soaking into the fine strands makes his stomach turn.

He pushes the bowl away, and Ino pushes it right back. “I’m not fighting you on this,” she says. “Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“I don’t care.” They stare at each other across the table, amber eyes meeting stormy blue until he drops his gaze to the wood. “Genma,” she says, “it’s your favorite. Come on.”

Maybe if he shocks her enough, she’ll leave him alone. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he says, and before she can tell him that’s good, he holds out a hand to stop her. “I didn’t kill anyone, but I made  _ Ibiki  _ sick. You tell me if you could eat with that in your head.”

“I’ve seen shit too. You’re not special.”

His eyes flash. “I don’t want to be special. I want to be left alone.”

“No,” Ino says. “Not if you’re going to spend the night hating yourself.”

Genma groans, falling to his side away from her and curling into the fetal position as she pauses. “I’m not giving you sex tonight, so you can leave.”

She sucks in a sharp breath before resting a hand on his hip. He jumps at the contact, but soon the warmth sinks into him and begins to calm him. “Is that what you think I came here for?”

“What else do we do here?”

“Gen…” Her knuckles drag over the strip of exposed skin, back and forth, back and forth as she leans over him. “I wouldn’t ever do that to you, not when you’re like this. Not unless you asked.”

“I can’t,” he mumbles, “so go.”

“Sex isn’t the only thing I want from you, idiot,” she says, and he cranes his head up to see her brow furrowed. “Can I not care about you because I  _ want  _ to, and not because I want something?”

“You’re here to help me be miserable out of the goodness of your heart?” he says, and he doesn’t quite manage  _ snippy.  _ “Because most people think that’s a shitty way to spend their nights.”

“I’ve spent nights cleaning bedpans,” Ino says without hesitation. “Dealing with a mission come-down is nothing.”

Genma lets his head thump against the fabric before tucking it in his arms. “You should go help someone who really needs it,” he says around the lump in his throat. “I’m sure there’s others who are back and hurting.”

“They’re not you.”

Who would’ve guessed that three words, barely audible, would shock his heart into beating again?”

_ They’re- _

_ Not- _

_ You. _

He  _ shudders  _ when she reaches up to play with the tie of his lopsided hitai-ate. “You’d be more comfortable with this off,” she murmurs. “I guess if you’re not going to eat, then at least let me help you be comfortable. Did you even brush your hair? Gods, there’s so many knots.”

“Fell asleep with it wet,” he says. “Happens. Take it off. I don’t care.”

She wastes no time in moving to his other side, tossing the fabric away, and pulling his head into her lap. Her fingers comb through the tangles with more care than he’s been shown in a long time, others too put off by one thing or another about him to give him more than a quick, back-alley fuck. Ino, though, combs and combs until his very blood sings, and he relaxes under her touch.

At some point, she begins to hum. It cuts through the silence, soft and airy as the notes spill from her lips. The sound surrounds him with the promise of something more, and he closes his eyes to let the sensation carry him away. His hands clutch at the fabric of her skirt when her nails scratch lightly over his scalp, soon turning to the pads of her fingers as she massages him.

“Keep ‘em closed,” she says when he looks up at her. “That helps with the falling asleep.” When he does, she leans down to brush her nose against his temple. “Actually…”

“Hm?”

“Can you get to bed? I’m sure that’d be more comfortable than the floor.”

His very soul aches as he stands. He’s weak, he knows. He shouldn’t need help to walk the ten paces to the bedroom door but he  _ does,  _ and Ino seems content to lead him the three more to the edge of the bed. Gently, ever-so-gently, she pulls on the hem of his uniform shirt until it comes over his head.

“Do you want to take your pants off?” she asks.

Genma nods, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Her hands on his skin whisper worship in the soft light of his bedside lamp, and he knows he doesn’t deserve this type of care tonight. Maybe on a night he’s done something kind, sure, but he deserves this silent praise on a night when he doesn’t have to remember how his own hands have caused chaos.

Ino’s never seen him like this, soft and mired in his own self-doubt. He’s always confident, always the Genma that everyone parties with, yet somehow she’s treating him no different than usual. A little quieter, a little more careful as his pants slide to the floor, but no different. “Say something,” she whispers, fitting her forehead against his neck. “Please.”

“Why?”

She doesn’t understand what he means. “Because I want to hear your voice.”

“No. Why did you come?” There’s a pain in his chest he worries might be something serious, but he stands still as Ino presses her lips to the curve of his collarbone.

“Because I didn’t want you hurting,” she whispers, and the pain blooms with each breath he takes. “I didn’t want you to come home to nothing.”

Genma lets out a shuddering sigh as his arms lift in the hug he’s wanted to give her ever since they’d told him he was leaving. It’s an embrace that speaks vulnerability, of admitting to himself that maybe he’s been lying to himself when he’s said that Ino is just a fling. 

It’s him trying to say he wants to come home to her more often.

Ino hugs him back with the same intensity, her nails digging into his naked back like she’ll never let him go again. The bright sparks of pain root him when all he wants to do is sink back under the waves of regret, and his breath comes out ragged as he tries to control himself in her arms.

“What happened out there?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

“You know I can’t tell you that,” he mumbles back. “I’m sorry I’m not better at getting my feet back under me.”

She shakes her head as her arms drop. He’s hurt, but it eases when she uses those arms to pull back his blankets and pat the empty mattress. “Put your feet up here for the night instead,” she says. “I’ll take care of things.”

Genma feels every bit a child as he crawls under the covers, and more so when she tucks the fabric around his shoulders. “You don’t need to,” he says softly. “I can do it myself.”

“Or you could let me help you,” she says. “I know how nice it is to get help when you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror.”

“Okay.”

Ino kisses his temple, her lips soft and pliant when he tilts his head up to feel them against his. It is as chaste as he’s ever known, about comfort and stability rather than the passion that so often sparks between them. 

He misses her from the second she turns out the light and lets the door slip shut on her way to the living room. Plastic crinkles as she picks up the bag, the fridge opening and closing before she returns to lean against the door. "Is there anything you didn't take care of before you left?" she asks.

"No," he says.

"Mind if I lay down with you, then?" She's already got her outer layers half off before he says yes, but he doesn't mind the assumption. Someone he trusts against his back is better than no one to share the bed with, he supposes, and he welcomes her arm when she slings it over his stomach. "Go to sleep, Gen," she breathes. "I'll be right here."

He thinks his apology bears repeating, and Ino's fingers tighten on his chest when he speaks the words. "I know we were looking for fun," he says. "This isn't fun."

"I haven't cared about 'fun' for a while now," Ino says. "I want  _ you,  _ even if it's not fun."

_ Him.  _ Not fun, not what he's thought they've grown into over the last year, but  _ him,  _ even though he's about to fall apart. "Me," he says.

"You." Her free hand comes up to brush his bangs from his eyes as she presses her forehead between his shoulders. There's no more words after that, only their breathing to help lull Genma into the state somewhere between sleep and waking. It's not that he  _ minds,  _ because he'll have the next few days off, but with every passing second, the tidal wave of mission memories threatens to consume him.

Genma tries to consider what these new admissions mean for them. He trusts her enough to let her take care of him, and she trusts him--even fresh off of a difficult mission-- enough to sleep by him.

That sort of trust doesn't come easily.

He eventually rolls over to face her. She growls a bit at the movement, eyes opening with a soft scowl on her lips. "What's wrong?"

"Can't sleep," he whispers. Her cheek warms under his hand as he cups her face, thumb brushing over her lips before he brings her into a quick kiss. "Too wound up, I guess."

Ino yawns. "You were too exhausted to eat earlier," she says. "Now what?"

"You can go back to sleep," he says softly. "Don't mind me."

"It's my job to mind you," Ino retorts. The bite is softened by her sleepy tone, and somehow  _ that  _ is what sends him over the edge as he gives into the need he feels. He plunges headfirst into what's built between them for so long, gives into the tension and the as-of-yet unstated  _ love  _ he feels for her. She huffs in surprise when his lips slant over hers once more, insistent where they were relaxed.

"Thank you," he says instead of apologizing again. "For being here."

"It's the least I can do, since you won't eat the food I bought you," she says with a soft smile. "unless there's something else."

He's silent until she leans forward to rest their foreheads together. "I--" he swallows hard-- "trust you."

"I suppose I wouldn't be here if you didn't," Ino says.

"No, I  _ trust  _ you." Genma sets his jaw in frustration when she doesn't seem to grasp what he's saying. "I want..."

Ino reaches for him, fingers barely missing his as he gets up to pad over to the dresser where he keeps his collection of toys. There's want trickling through him now, and he knows if he lets it build up there will be  _ no  _ chance of him sleeping with her in his bed.

He wants tonight to be memorable.

"Turn on the lamp for me," he says quietly. There's a small click and then he's looking down at a long, black roll of fabric, its red ribbon tie gleaming in the soft light as he unties it. Surgical steel glints from its bed, and he uses everything he has in him to stop his hands from shaking as he turns around. He holds the rods out to Ino, whose eyes widen as she takes them in. "You know what these are?"

"I've used them in the hospital," she says.

"I trust you," he repeats, "and because I trust you, I want you to use them on me. If you're comfortable with that. If you're not, forg--"

"Come here," Ino says. She pats the bed next to her and sits up, leaning down on one hand as Genma acquiesces. Her chin settles onto his shoulder as she looks down his chest. "So you're into sounding," she says. "I suppose I should've guessed there was more to your proclivities."

"You don't have to," he says.

"Oh, Gen." Her dark chuckle sends a shiver down his spine. "If you're sure enough to ask for it, I'm sure enough to do it for you. I want you to feel good, pull you out of here." Cool fingers whisper over his brow, setting his nerves alight with just one simple touch. "Let me."

His cock, slowly but steadily filling, jumps when she drops a hand to palm him through his underwear. "I don't want to think about the mission anymore," he says. "I want to forget, and this is the surest way to do that."

Ino takes the kit from him and presses him to the mattress. "Alcohol pads?"

"Pocket on the side." Genma reclines against the wall with a low groan as she prepares, laying the roll out along with the rest of her supplies. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the feeling of his cock pressing against the elastic band surrounding his hips, the way Ino's muscles bunch as she sits over him. "You're sure, Ino?"

"Positive." She bends down to nibble along his collarbone as he helps her slide his boxers off. He whimpers at the first touch of her hand. Weeks of not even considering the option have him about to come apart already, and she knows it. Exploits it. Ino takes her time and teases him, soft caresses and the feeling of her painted nails dragging ever-so-softly over his sac bringing out a needy whine he didn't know he had in him.

"Do you want me naked?" she asks.

When she ceases all contact, he nods quickly. "I'd prefer it."

Piece by piece, her remaining clothing falls to the floor. Genma loves watching her undress, truly. It's something unreal to watch the way a dress flows to the floor, or listen to her armor click as she sets it carefully on his dresser. "Do you want to touch me, Genma?" she asks when she's bared. She stands proud, lamplight illuminating her in a way that has him itching to get his hands on her.

He nods again.

"Do you want to touch me...here?" She drags one finger up her stomach and onto a breast, circling her nipple as he wraps a hand around himself. "Or here?" Her other hand drops to cover the carefully groomed patch of hair between her legs, and Genma has to remember that oxygen is necessary for living.

"I'd touch you anywhere," he says, and Ino smirks.

"Too bad it'll be me doing the touching today," she sing-songs.

"Do it, then." Genma puts both hands in the air, knuckles scraping against the wall in his haste. "I need it, Ino, please."

"How often do you do this?" she asks.

"Pretty frequently."

"Good, good," she muses. She rips open one of the alcohol pads and selects a sound, one of Genma's smaller sizes, before returning her attentions to his cock. The sensation of her hair tickling his thighs as she leans to press a kiss to his head has him on edge, already trembling when she pulls away to retrieve the lube. "I know I'll be imagining you doing this frequently."

Genma hisses as a cool drop lands on him, and jerks as the next several fall. Ino's grip doesn't falter, though, but she releases him quickly to wipe the sound. "'s  _ cold,"  _ Genma whines. "Sadist."

"Yeah, but now you're not as hard." Her hand comes up to palm his balls, then trails up until she's holding him firmly again. Genma forces himself to relax, melt into the bed as she teases the end of his cock with the rod to smear the lube around. "All right," she murmurs, gaze slipping down as she positions the sound. "Ready?"

_ "Please,"  _ he whispers, and the word dissolves into a quiet, reticent cry as the steel begins to sink in. Ino is careful, watchful, and as Genma's head thuds against the wall, she is  _ enthralled. _

"Gods, Gen," she says softly. "You look so good right now."

Already, he feels the pressure building in him. As the sound slows to a stop, gravity no longer enough to press it further, he grabs onto Ino's free wrist to ground himself. "Stop a second," he rasps, eyes shutting as his brow knits. "Just touch me."

"Something wrong?" Ino asks.

"I don't want to come yet," he mumbles. "I'm about to."

"Ahh." Ino withdraws the metal, leaving Genma bereft as she holds it carefully away. "No going for a few rounds tonight?" she asks. "Because I wouldn't mind."

Genma's stomach clenches when she lowers herself to him, breasts pressing against his chest as she mouths along the strong lines of his neck. "It's late," he says. "And you probably have work tomorrow."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've kept me up all hours of the night," she chuckles, but doesn't say anything more. It's a homey thing, the feeling that builds between them as they lay there, but it's exactly what Genma's missing.

It's what he needs tonight.

"Try again?" he eventually asks.

Ino kisses just under the line of his jaw before nodding and pulling back to prepare him again. This time she presses forward with the steel when it stops, and Genma's hands fist in the sheets as he opens for her. The delicate line between pleasure and pressure blurs until he can no longer see it, can't fathom considering anything but the way Ino's slowly fucking him with the sound.

The tides of regret lie far behind him now.

She whispers to him while she works, speaking to him of how good he is. How handsome. How she thinks of him while they're apart, and is glad that they began this, even if it means helping him through the worst of things.

_ "Especially  _ now," she says, angling the sound to nestle it against his prostate. He gasps as she applies a gentle, steady pressure, experimenting until she finds the rhythm that makes him see  _ stars.  _ "That's it, Genma," she croons. "Can you come for me?"

As she continues, unyielding, his body lights up when he brings a hand to fist loosely around his cock. Nerves sing, muscles tensing as the tension in his gut grows. The room fades away until it's him and Ino and the steel, and when she tells him she wants to see him, the tension shatters.

In the seconds between her removing the sound and his orgasm, he looks into her face and swears he sees forever. When he comes, his grunt of pleasure anything but dignified, he watches her eyes soften at the way he slumps back against the mattress.

"Oh," he sighs. His legs splay, come-stained abdomen heaving as she sets the sound aside. "Ino, fuck." Trembling, he reaches for her face. "You..."

"I what?" she asks.

Genma smiles wanly against her cheek before whispering in her ear. "Be mine?"

"Right after I make you come," she says. "I'm so honored."

"Is that a yes?"

She nods, winding an arm under him to lift his chest to hers as she tells him yes, yes of  _ course.  _ "You're not getting rid of me," she teases. "You're stuck now."

"Excellent." Genma winds a hand into her hair, pulling her into an embrace as he struggles to keep his breathing even. He feels vulnerable and a little unsure, but what he knows is that even after showing her this part of him, he still wants her. He still trusts her, because she’s proven herself wanting of what he has to offer her.

After several minutes, she’s the first to pull away. “You should go and clean up,” she says. “I’ll take care of things in here.” She helps him up before pushing him toward the door. When he hesitates, she shoos him. “I’m not going to disappear,” she assures. “Go.”

He still hurries. He’s not quite sure what Ino’s doing, especially when he hears her get up and start rummaging through the kitchen again, but he finishes and comes back to see her with a large glass of water and some cookies he’s forgotten about.”

“For you,” she says. “You need something, at least.”

“Thanks.” They sink to the bed together, Genma leaning heavily against her as he brings the glass to his mouth. He drinks deep before setting it back on the nightstand. When he turns back to her, she folds him into an embrace she uses to lay him down. “Stay,” he says, just in case. 

“Leaving means I’d have to get dressed and I’m  _ really  _ not into that idea right now,” she whispers, lips brushing against his nape. “And you still haven’t slept, so I’m going to park myself right here and make sure you do. This isn’t a mission, you can’t just soldier pill it away.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.” 

“Mm.”

“This isn’t a mission, it’s home.” Ino’s fingers tangle with his on the sheets as she sighs, grip tightening when he opens his mouth to protest. “No,” she says softly. “Sleep. You can tell me in the morning, all right? Just rest, Gen. You can rest now, I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ino can't say it's unpleasant waking up next to Genma. It's not the first time and after last night she knows it won't be the last, but there's something about the way his usually-smirking face is smoothed, none of the trademark grin to crease the corners of his eyes or furrow his forehead. It looks as though for a few seconds he's at peace, and she wants to see that look more often. She can't quite manage  _ mourning  _ for the person he might have been without the mask, not this early in the morning, but there's a sense of sadness she can't shake in the quiet of his room.

Blankets rustle as he rolls over to face her. It's unintentional, if the yawn directly in her face is anything to go by, but she doesn't mind. She watches as he settles back, eyes darting back and forth under his eyelids as he dreams of some unfathomable thing.

_ Probably something dirty,  _ she thinks with a wry grin. Though perhaps something different, darker...the sort of thing he was trying to run from last night. Her face falls as she recalls the way his voice had broken upon asking her for something he'd never asked anyone else before.

Something he'd entrusted her with.

She watches silently as light creeps over the angular jut of his cheekbones, illuminating every tiny scar and nick he's earned himself on missions he tries so hard to forget. He has yet to tell her how he got them, and she looks forward to him telling her the stories over shared coffee and more nights cradled in each others' arms. She looks forward to him caressing her as he opens his mouth and tells her about all the nights he's spent sleeping on the forest floor and all the nights he's spent with only himself and the echo of loneliness...the echo she hopes to drown out bit by bit.

It's a funny thing, she thinks, that she would be enraptured, her attentions captured by someone who's not exactly known for being careful with another person's heart. She's given hers freely regardless.

Genma lets out a small huff, then sneezes against her chest as he wakes with a start. It's not unlike one of Kakashi's ninken, and she's barely bothered in light of the way his eyes widen in surprise when they set upon her. "You're here," he says.

"I'm here."

The tokujo's hand skims up her side, as though reassuring himself it's actually her and not some apparition. "Last night..."

"Was good." Ino raises a hand to brush a piece of hair from where it's stuck to his forehead. She gently tips his face forward to press her lips to the same spot, not risking a breath lest she push him away. "Thank you," she whispers. "I appreciate how much that took for you to do."

Genma shuffles forward enough to bury his face between her shoulder and the pillow, skin heating with a flush. "Wasn't that m--"

"Don't, baby," she says softly. "Let us have this, all right?"

"Mmm." He curves against her with another soft yawn, and she nuzzles into the mess that’s passing off as his hair. It’s quite a bit later than she should be getting up, but when she presses up on an elbow, he pulls her back down to rest. “Don’t go.”

Ino settles her chin on the top of his head with a low sigh. She says nothing, content to play with the ends of his hair as he swallows hard against something he doesn’t deign to tell her about. Staying in bed isn’t her preferred way to spend a morning, not when she knows there’s things to do at the shop, at home, everywhere else…

But Genma clings to her, and she doesn’t want to let this morning’s peace fade away to the sound of selfishness.

She can hear the tick of the clock over his steady breathing as sleep pulls him under once more, its insistent clicking setting her teeth on edge as precious time wiles away. He needs his rest, she knows.  _ Fuck,  _ she knows--she’s seen the circles under his eyes on mornings when his past keeps him up until the dawn--but it’s hard to ignore the subtle press of his growing erection against her thigh. Last night had been satisfying, more than, but the picture had seared itself into her head with no intention to leave, and she hadn’t wanted to wake Genma by doing something about her arousal. 

“You’re fidgeting,” he says after a few seconds. “Why?”

“It’s nothing,” she whispers into his temple. “You can sleep.”

Instead, he runs a hand down her side again. It’s careful, purposeful, and he pushes a thigh between hers as his lips follow the line of her collarbone. “Don’t know if I can now,” he murmurs, as though he’s afraid to break the hush that blankets them. “You’re pretty cute in the morning, you know.”

Ino chuckles. “I’m usually cute.”

“Mhmm.” The hand ghosts lower, knuckles brushing from stomach to breast and then back down to the hair between her thighs. “Extra cute when you’re waking up next to me.”

“Yeah,” she says softly. It’s impossible not to arch into the touch, not when he’s still half-asleep and unencumbered with what he  _ thinks  _ he should be doing. “Ah, Gen,” she sighs when his fingers find her folds. “Not unless you’re going to help me take care of that.”

He makes a quiet noise and rubs himself against her thigh by way of answer.

“That a yes?”

“It’s a ‘please.’” Genma’s lashes flutter against her neck as he takes a deep breath, lets his mouth rest just over her pulse. His exhale shakes and she wonders exactly what he’s thinking about, but decides as his fingers press inside her that it’s not worth knowing at this moment. Genma does not do  _ please-- _ Genma asks how he can have and takes it, and the fact that he’s laying himself bare next to her doesn’t go unnoticed.

His other hand comes up to cradle her head as she parts her legs for him. It should probably be embarrassing how wet she already is for him, how utterly  _ fucked  _ she is when she thinks about him, but she’s never quite managed to make it to feeling shameful when he’s around.

Shameless, sure.

But there’s no shame in the way she  _ wants,  _ so badly, to bask in this slow, unhurried thing they’re working toward now. 

Genma curls his fingers as he whispers her name against her jaw, and she parts her lips in a quiet moan when he begins to stroke her gently. He shifts her onto her back, leaning over her and bringing the low heat between them to a simmer. It ripples through her in waves from wherever he touches, wherever he decides that he wants to make  _ his.  _

“Beautiful,” he sighs when she grinds down on his palm. “God, Ino.”

She curls a hand around the back of his neck to guide his lips to hers, hips pressing up as he rubs against her stomach. 

Genma stills for a moment, just one, before deepening the kiss, crushing his lips against hers like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He shuffles to his knees and  _ moans  _ when she chases him up, bodies tangling until they’re a mess amidst the discarded blankets on his bed. His fingers leave behind a cold trail as he moves to spread her cheeks and then she’s filled, so impossibly full as he pants into her neck.

Ino whines when he fixes his lips against her shoulder and sucks. One hand winds into his hair to hold him close and the other flexes where it rests on his spine, digging in to anchor her as he shifts below her. “Shit,” she whimpers. “Genma~”

He holds her close. His arms are steel bands around her waist and back, keeping her close as he buries his face in the side of her neck. Heated kisses punctuated by nips and sucks keep her on edge, as does the way he feels as he grinds against her with impossibly tiny movements. In the light streaming through the bedroom window his eyes are liquid gold as he blinks up, pupils blown wide. His mouth opens and shuts, and then again before Ino asks what he wants to say.

“I like it when you call me baby,” he says, raising his clean hand to brush her hair behind her ear. “Can--would you?”

“Sure.” Ino smiles as she cups his face in her hands, presses her lips to his forehead. “Baby.”

“Like that.” Genma’s cheeks lift when she kisses him again, all over. “Stop,” he groans fondly. “I’m trying to fuck my girlfriend, you know.”

“And how’s that going, baby?” 

“Well, she thinks she’s got me under her thumb.” He tightens his arms and leans backward, pulling Ino along with until she’s sat above him and watching the way his throat works as he swallows hard. She leans down to listen to him as she rolls her hips to draw out a low groan. “She does. I’d give her everything.”

Ino flushes at that, her face and chest heating and probably all sorts of red and splotchy.  _ “You  _ stop,” she says. “Embarrassing.”

“I mean it,” Genma murmurs. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he seeks out her hands to tangle their fingers on the covers, and she ducks her head.

“Give it to her harder, then,” she says, “and she’ll make you breakfast when you’re done.”

“Deal.” Warm hands skim down her sides as Genma sucks in an appreciative breath before grabbing her hips and pulling her flush against him. She leans down for a kiss, meeting his lazy thrusts before demanding  _ more.  _ Genma lets her take it, gives himself up for her pleasure until she’s shivering with waves of pleasure. 

“Genma,” she moans as he flips her over, driving into her as he chases his own orgasm. Her hands scrape down his spine, back arching off the bed when his hand splays against it to press her closer. “Oh,  _ fuck,  _ baby!  _ Fu--” _

The word’s stolen by his lips crashing against hers and stealing all sense as he spills, a low whine bursting from deep in his chest. “Fuck,” he finishes for her.  _ “Fuck.” _

Ino’s eyes flutter shut as he lays down on her, leaned up on one elbow so she’s not  _ completely  _ crushed. His fingers whisper over her shoulder, over the marks he’s left that she’s sure she’ll catch hell about at work. She doesn’t mind--it’s worth it. 

Genma’s  _ more than  _ worth it, even with the way he’s making it hard to breathe.

“You’ve gotta move,” she says after a minute, squirming. “Else I’m dying in your bed.”

“Mmn.” Genma shifts off and clutches the blanket to his face, peering out from it as she gets up and makes her way to the bathroom. When she comes back with a cloth for him, he cleans himself before crawling back under the covers.

“Are you planning on living there today?” she asks, earning herself a nod before she hears the telltale sound of a yawn. 

“‘M still tired.”

“Will you eat if I make you food?”

“I’d think about it,” Genma murmurs. He peeks one eye out when Ino rubs his upper arm, a tired smile in his gaze. “Or you could come back to bed.”

She really  _ should  _ be on her way to do the things she’s been saving up for this, a rare day off, but cleaning and organizing pale in comparison to the thought of being safe and warm with someone who needs her more than her messy bookshelf. “I promise to come back to bed if you promise to have something for lunch, at least,” she says. “All right?”

Genma worms a hand out to grab her and pull her down, fitting the blanket tight around her. “All right,” he says softly. “Just as long as you stay with me until then.”

“I promise that, too,” Ino says, and feels his smile curve against the back of her neck. “Like I said last night--I’m not leaving. You’re stuck with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
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